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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28970880">Love? Well, it's never helped me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Betrayal, Clichés - lots of them, Dukes - Freeform, F/M, Falling In Love, First Person, Kingdoms, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sorry Not Sorry, masked balls, middle-ages</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:40:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28970880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Samantha—cynical, wary, an expert on heartbreak—has settled into her new life. And maybe she's not the happiest, but it's better than what she's had before. Right? </p><p>Well, when she's thrown back five years into the past, she has a chance to discover what she's lost, and to heal. But as she starts to spiral into a dangerous game, balancing the seeds of attraction with mistakes she's made before, Sam soon realizes the price for losing might be something she can't afford.</p><blockquote>
  <p>I stopped, a cold feeling welling up in the pit of my stomach—it felt as though a bucket of freezing water had just been thrown over me. I stared up at Althalos' brown eyes, full of warmth I knew was faked, wasn't real—</p>
  <p>I had seen this before. </p>
</blockquote>In which there's heroes to be saved, betrayals to be avenged, and maybe—just maybe—love to discover.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love? Well, it's never helped me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is, like I've said, a shitty romance novel set in the middle ages, written purely for my pleasure. I wanted to find out how writing my own original work in first person is cause why the hell not? I'll probably go back to Harry Potter, third person after this, though. </p><p>Again: this is written <em>purely for my pleasure</em>. Please don't come at me for writing this—I have no tolerance for rude people. The story has tons of cliches as well, so hopefully you don't mind that. Anyways, thanks for clicking on this work, and hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>And won't you guess what the crown-prince said,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Darlin', I'm sick of you, get outta my bed!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I groaned, shifting over on my uncomfortable hay bed as I tried to block the song out and concentrate on sleeping. It was too late, though. I was already awake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The merchant sang that song every single day, early in the morning—too early to be up, I thought. It was some stupid love ballad about a girl falling in love. Because, of course, a girl couldn’t do anything else. It ended with the boy betraying the girl’s heart and her dying alone and miserable, abandoned by all her friends, in some shack outside of the kingdom, and the boy becoming king. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she hadn’t even tried to get revenge! Waste of a perfectly good opportunity, if you’d ask me—she could easily have destroyed the boy’s reputation without lifting a hand! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it was lucky I wasn’t the one in one of those ballads. I would have gone absolutely stir-crazy, with all the people demanding so many things of me. It only proved to me that you didn’t need love. What you needed was food; shelter; a place to sleep—none of which love helped with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love… Once I’d thought love was all you needed, gobbled up all the stories and myths and happy endings, waited endlessly, patiently, for my prince in shining armour to come and rescue me... I scoffed. How naïve I’d been; I knew better now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love was only a tool to be wielded against fools, a fairy tale. A stupid notion that disguised the hard realities of life; made up by spinner-maidens and servants dreaming of a better life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I didn’t need it. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>"But...I love you,” I said, staring into Althalos’ eyes. He looked coldly back down at me, a hint of a sneer crossing his expression. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That doesn’t mean I love you back,” he said, tone devoid of the warmth he’d shown me even an hour earlier. “Do keep up… I’ll give you some time to pack your bags, and then I think it’ll be best if you get out of my castle.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>That didn’t matter now. That was years ago, actually, but sometimes I still felt a tiny aching feeling in my chest when I thought of Althalos. Not that anyone (including me) cared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I forced my mind away from the thoughts; I’d thought I’d learnt enough to not think about those memories, but apparently not. I rolled my shoulders and yawned, too tired to get out of bed. Yesterday had been a long and tiring day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange, though, I thought a moment later when I heard nothing. I’d lain in bed stewing for a long time—Carac should be here by now, he was never late—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Samantha!” a voice called from outside. “Where are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yep, there he was. And now I realized it: <em>Shoot</em>. I was late. I jumped up from my bed and ran over to the window, sticking my head out of it to see the street below, and the boy who stood there. “Coming!” I called, and took the stairs two at a time, wincing as I slipped on the wooden floor and banged my knee against the post. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no time for that. I had to get downstairs before he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I skidded around the corner of the corridor and threw open the door, then ran down the steps from the garden. “Wait!” I yelled. “Carac, wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around, confusion colouring his features before his expression cleared and he smiled at me. “There you are,” he said, beaming—his signature expression, I thought. “I was wondering where you were.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was...I was just...having a....a lie-in,” I gasped, coming to a stop before Carac. His eyebrow quirked as he looked down at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not too much, I hope!” he joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, unfortunately I still have work to do,” I replied, and gave him the copper coins he’d been waiting for. He counted them quickly; a habit, I thought, although in all my years of knowing him I’d never scammed him a coin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said, and handed me fabric I’d asked for. My eyes crinkled as I ran my hand across it, smoothing the ripples in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you,” I said, and smiled at him. I was always happier when I got my fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow!” he called, and I responded with, “See you!” and walked back into the house, whistling a cheerful song that I'd heard a few days earlier—not one about falling in love, thankfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that day, I frowned as I surveyed the sea of fabric laid out before me—glittering gold; resplendent greens; a deep blue reminding me of the sea; all imported from the Kingdom of Navadaki. I took my tape and started to measure a gorgeous maroon dress, made for one of my best customers: the queen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I owned a clothing store: Opportunity, which, as quoted from the posters pasted all around town, ‘sold marvelous, rich clothing, all hand-made and picked by experts from all around the known world!’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the best clothing shop in all of the kingdom. Even the royal family shopped here; the queen mainly, buying clothes for the balls they held every month. It was the rage in the nobility right now; if you were rich, and wanted to show off, you <em>had</em> to have an Opportunity dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main populace of the city didn’t know who the owner was, only that they were very rich and had lots of business, and, of course, that they were very good at designing gowns. At least, that was what I had heard on the streets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d tried to keep my ownership of Opportunity secret, but there were still some people who knew: my best friend Anna, for example. And now I thought about it, it was strange she wasn’t here already. Usually Anna came over to my house every day, if only to gossip about what everyone had been doing recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna knew everything and everyone there was to know in Madina; if she didn't know about it it wasn't important, and if she did, well, be sure that the whole kingdom would also know in a few hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was a good friend, I could tell, even though I'd known her for only just over a year. Anna had a big heart, though she rarely showed it; if I was sick she would be at my house straight away, with some snacks and then tell me all about the gossip I'd missed, taking my mind off my cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I loved her for that; it was time for me to return the favour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a satchel with some treats—and my fabric, of course—inside, I ran down the stairs and went to Anna's house. She lived around the second wall of the kingdom, where most—including me—of the middle class did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I walked quickly down the streets, passing the houses stacked on top of each other like bricks. Some of the houses had multicoloured flowers outside the windows, but most did not; they were squat wooden houses on the dirty street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I grimaced as one of the men whistled at me, and gave me a appreciative smirk as he eyed my body. It was the ‘not-so-good’ part of town: East Saalem. It wasn’t wise for women—or really, anyone who didn’t know the area well—to walk around there. But: it was the fastest way to go to the second wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I walked past a group of people who looked to be having a meeting; my head was down but still alert, eyes not making contact—it was the best way to not get into any trouble. I kept this posture until I came to Anna’s house; she lived right by the second wall, which was nice in the fact that her house was half covered by the wall, but bad in the fact that she was constantly under scrutiny from the city guards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking up the stairs, I noticed that there were no lights on inside her house. Which was strange, but I didn’t pay it any notice. Looking back, I probably should have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knocked on the door; once, twice, three times…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No answer. “Anna,” I called. “I’m here,” and when there was still no reply, I pushed the door gently. It swung open and I peeked in carefully. Anna never kept her door open; thieves were common around here, and murderers less so but still here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had something happened to her?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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